


Poison of the Soul

by Cryllia



Series: Mydag [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Broken!Hawke, Character Chronicle, DLC, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Game Spoilers, Language, Possible Book Spoilers, Possible Comic/GN Spoilers, Snarky Hawke, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryllia/pseuds/Cryllia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Among Varric’s many writings is a manuscript.  Notes are written in the margins and more on papers that have been stuffed between the pages.  These obviously belong to Varric, but the book itself is written in a style and hand that Varric has never entertained.  Depending how friendly the finder of this manuscript was with Varric, the mood he was in, and how drunk he was, Varric will tell a different tale of its origin; of course it's his, he's ghost-writing for someone else, it's just a failed version of the story he'll never publish.  Like most of Varric's tales, all have some truth to them but none are the whole truth.  The manuscript - should the reader wrest it away - will reveal a very different story from Varric's "Tale of the Champion", though the setting is the same.  It is told from the Champion's point of view and seems much more personal...</i><br/>Although this is a continuation of the Mydag series, you do not have to have read the previous story to read this one.<br/>AU is for world state, minor tweaks, and DAII events happening out of game and chronological order because I hate the swing dance sequencing of the game (<b>one</b>-one-two-three,<b>two</b>-one-two-three, <b>three</b>) so I’m spacing it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ostagar

_Camp food sucks,_ Melaina thought to herself as she attempted to drown the hard-tack in her stew in a last-ditch effort to make it palatable. The young woman stole a glance at her bother over the campfire. Carver’s short black hair suited his face with his strong jawline and chocolate brown eyes. He needed to cut his bangs again though. Melaina opened her mouth to say as much when their commander approached. Both hopped to their feet.

“The scouts report we’ll be seeing action tonight. Grab your gear and join the rest of the unit immediately. We’ll be getting our marching orders within the hour.” The commander turned, ignoring their bows.

Melaina shot a grin at Carver. “Finally, some action!”

Carver only rolled his eyes in response as he began adjusting his tunic. “You _would_ be excited, sister. This isn’t some fancy ball we’re going to. Its battle. People will get hurt. People will die. It might be you or me.”

“And if we stop them here, so many more will be saved. Bethany. Mother. It’s worth it to save them, isn’t it?” The elder Hawke adjusted her leather pauldron as she spoke, “Besides, maybe you’ll save the King’s life.”

“Psht. And the griffons will rise again. If anyone is saving the King tonight, it’s you. It’s _always_ you.”

“Stop being so sour, Carver! I swear their going to rename lemons after you.” _Besides,_ she thought to herself, _it’s never me._

They were positioned on the left flank, well away from the main action and the more experienced fighting men. They knew the plan. Melaina watched as the two lines surged into one another – a wave crashing onto the shore. Neither broke. The wave rippled towards them and soon the unit was engulfed by darkspawn. Parry. Strike. Remember to keep your mouth closed and your eyes open. Duck. Spin. Cut. Fear the blood, not the creatures. Lunge. Slice. Melaina tried to keep an eye out for Carver, but there was little she could do against such an onslaught. The Tower was on fire – no. That was the signal, help was coming!

A flash of cream to her right caught Melaina’s eye. Glancing that direction she saw Carver go to one knee before a tall darkspawn dressed in impressively spiky armor. With a scream, Melaina launched herself at it, twin daggers outstretched. One caught its helmet, causing the killing blow to land wide. The battle narrowed to this single opponent who glared at her for daring to steal its kill. A moment later its head was cleanly removed by Carver’s great sword before he fell back to his knees, holding his side with a pained look on his face. She took a moment to look around. Her unit had broken. The commander was currently being torn in half by some monstrous…thing. There were more darkspawn on the field than Fereldens. In the distance she swore she saw Loghain Mac Tir’s banner proudly marching away from the field with dozens of neatly ranked men.

_Time to go._

Melaina scooped an arm under her brother, leaving the other free to fight. She found her bearings, and the two Hawkes slowly worked their way north.


	2. Lothering

It was nearly a month later and in an extremely early morning hour that the two siblings collapsed at the familiar front door of the small house outside Lothering. Exhausted, Melaina banged on said door none-too-gently before sinking gratefully next to Carver for a moment of rest.

“Who in the Maker’s name is that at this hour?” came the welcome voice from inside. A few moments later the door swung open and Melaina swore she heard the Chant as a familiar and welcome face appeared.

“Bethany! Its...we…” She couldn’t seem to find any of the words she needed.

“Mother! It’s Carver! I think he’s hurt!”

“The horde is heading here. Fast. We’ve only just beaten it,” Carver provided.

“But-“ Bethany started before an inhuman shriek interrupted her thought.

“They’re here!” Melaina and Carver shouted in unison as they grabbed their weapons and stood.

“Hurry, mother!” Bethany called as she snatched a staff from next to the door before joining them. Leandra, matriarch to the Hawke family, thundered down the stairs, a healing potion in each hand. As she burst from the building the Hawke family had called home for the previous three years for the last time she blinked at the scene; bodies of inhuman creatures were strewn about like toys after a child’s temper tantrum, and her children spattered in blood. A beat of silence passed.

They ran.

A narrowing of the path allowed Bethany to summon a wall of fire, giving the family a brief respite from their pursuers. Leandra was finally able to hand over the potions she’d been carrying as she gasped for breath, and Carver gulped them down gratefully.

“I think that’s all of them,” he said, cautiously taking his first full breath of air in a month.

“For the moment,” Bethany cautioned.

“Maker save us, we’ve lost it all. Everything your father and I built…”

Melaina shook her head. “At least we’re alive. That’s no small feat, considering.”

“We really should get going before more of those…things show up.” Carver looked over the path they had come from nervously.

“But to where? Where are we going?” his twin insisted.

“Away from the darkspawn, where else?”

“And then where? We can just wander aimlessly!”

Melaina cut in, “As long as we wander aimlessly _away_ from the darkspawn, I’m happy.”

“Uch! We should have run sooner. Why did we wait so long!?” Bethany grumbled.

“Why are you looking at us? We’ve been running since Ostagar!” Carver protested.

“Not to interrupt, but the Blight’s not going to wait while we stand here pointing fingers.” Melaina sighed. “Our first priority is to get somewhere safe. Then we can talk about what’s next.”

Leandra nodded. “That’s good advice, for once.”

The twins nodded silently and the family continued down the path. Instead of providing some protection, the path opened into a bare spot with multiple exits leading away from it. The guttural sounds coming from most of them were not encouraging.

“Trapped then…” Bethany said, despair thickening her voice.

“No.” Melaina’s usual cheer was gone, her eyes focused ahead of them. “If it comes to that, I’ll draw them off. Get Mother out of here.”

“You can’t-“ began Carver, his brow furrowed as he grabbed her wrist. Melaina shook him off angrily.

“Now isn’t the time for you to play the hero, Carver. Figure out where to go. Keep them safe.”

“Thank you, Melaina,” Leandra said, not looking at her eldest.

Darkspawn crested the hill and the battle was engaged anew. Carver kept any from venturing too close to Leandra and Bethany while his twin took what potshots she could from behind the safety of his sword. Melaina managed to keep the bulk of them attracted to herself, but she could feel her muscles tiring while the enemy ranks seemed endless. Then, from seemingly nowhere a red-haired tornado of death spun from behind the darkspawn’s ranks. Melaina thought she heard it scream something about a ‘him’ but saw no one else engaged in the fight. Between the two, they managed to clear away the remains of this most recent unit. Finished, Melaina could finally survey her new ally. She was tall and well muscled. She had wielded her sword and shield well, and that red hair of hers looked somehow familiar to Melaina.

“Can you help me?” started the stranger. “My husband…”

Melaina nodded and the two women went to the other side of the clearing where a handsome man in full-plate armor leaned heavily against a rock. It wasn’t until he was standing that Melaina saw the Templar’s symbol on his breastplate.   Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing as the two groups joined.

“I am Aveline Vallen. This is my husband, Ser Wesley. Thank you for your help. I don’t think we-“

“Keep your distance, apostate!” Wesley cut in, pointing at Bethany.

“Ha! Well, the Maker has a sense of humor,” Bethany replied dryly.

“I’ve always said so.” Melaina muttered under her breath, earning her a dark look from Leandra.

Bethany continued, “First darkspawn and now Templars. Brilliant.”

“At least the ‘spawn’ are clear in their intent. Mages are not. The Order dictates…”

“Are we really going to do this?” Melaina interrupted, motioning a hand at their setting. “Here?”

“The Order dictates…”

“Wesley,” Aveline pleaded.

“Very well. But do not think that I am not watching you, mage.”

“Right back at you, Templar,” Bethany spat.

“We can hate each other when we’re safe. For now, we’ll move with you. North is cut off. We’ve just barely escaped the main body of the horde.” The red-head informed them as they gathered themselves once more.

Carver wrung his hands. “That’s it then. We really are trapped. The wilds are to the south. That’s no way out, and we don’t know where we’re going anyway.”

“Kirkwall.” Leandra’s voice was so soft her children barely heard her.

“What?”

“We can go to Kirkwall.” Her voice was stronger now.

Melaina shook her head, sighing. “Well, that wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Bethany nodded in agreement, shooting a glance at Wesley as she did so. “There are a lot of Templars in Kirkwall, Mother.”

“I know that.” Leandra took a breath. “But we still have family there. An estate.”

“It’s a destination at least,” Bethany conceded. “And it means that we should head to a port city.”

“I suppose if the options are south or die, I’ll take my chances with south,” Melaina smirked. “We can cut east later and try for Gwaren.”

They stood; ready to move, when the ground shook them back to their knees. They had wasted too much time and next wave of darkspawn had found them. Worse, one of the giant horned demons that Melaina had seen at Ostagar was now approaching them at full speed.

“YOU SOULLESS BASTARDS!” Carver yelled before charging the thing. Melaina could only watch in horror as the creature turned from its charge, not even seeming to feel Carver’s strike as it picked it up in one giant paw and simply squeezed. Carver’s strangled scream of pain was mercifully short. It tossed him aside like a ragdoll.

“Carver!”

Melaina wasn’t even sure who it was who called her brother’s name. She didn’t remember finishing the battle, or going to his side. She was simply and suddenly there, blood dripping down her hands and throat raw for no discernible reason. Her mother was sobbing as she knelt at her brother’s side.

“Carver. Carver wake up. Wake up. The battle is over. We’re fine. Carver. Carver?”

Wesley hobbled over. “I am truly sorry, mistress. Your son is gone.”

“No! These _things_ will not take Carver!”

Melaina’s mind was numb. She could only think of the fact that it was their stopping to speak that the horde had caught up to them at all. “Maybe we should grieve when we’re safe.”

Leandra’s black eyes flared angrily. “How dare you?” She hissed. “Don’t you dare speak to me of grief. How could you let him charge off like that? My little boy. This is _your_ fault.”

Melaina turned away, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. Unwilling to let her see how deeply her words had cut. She surprised herself with how steady her voice was, “At least they will have company now.” She could feel **it** happening again, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Darkspawn crested the hill again and Melaina wearily rose to her feet once more.

“Aveline.” Her voice was quiet, only in part to not attract the spawn before she was ready. “Go. Get them out of here.”

“I don’t und-“

“Please.” With a cry she rose on her toes and ran full tilt into the mass of darkspawn, striking several as she passed. A couple fell. Most turned to follow her progress. In moments she was surrounded. A roar cut through the air and Melaina looked up incredulously to see a dragon perched on the cliff above. Flames burst from its mouth and the sickening smell of charred flesh made worse for the taint, filled the air. In a flash of magic, a woman – old but still beautiful – stood in its place.

“Well, well. What have we here? It used to be that we never got visitors to the Wilds, but now it seems they arrive in hordes.”

Despite the numbness in her chest, Melaina couldn’t hold back her nature. “Impressive. Where’d you learn to turn into a dragon?”

“Maybe I am a dragon. If so, count yourself lucky. The smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite.”

“I would think any smell of darkspawn would put you off, burning or otherwise.”

The stranger chuckled. “True enough. You should know that if you wish you flee the horde you’re heading in the wrong direction.” The old woman turned to leave.

“Wait!” Bethany called after her. “You can’t just leave us here!”

“Can I not?” She sounded genuinely perplexed. “I spotted a most curious sight. A might ogre, vanquished. Who could perform such a feat? But,” the stranger eyed Melaina thoughtfully, “now my curiosity is sated. You are safe for the moment. Is that not enough?”

“You could show me that trick of yours.” Melaina quipped. “That looks useful.”

“If only a clever tongue was all one needed,” the old woman chuckled. “Tell me clever child. How do you intend to outrun the Blight?”

“We’re headed to Kirkwall.”

“Kirkwall? My! That is quite the voyage you’re planning. You’re king will not miss you, hmm?”

“I’m sure he’ll miss his life more.”

The dragon-woman’s laughter echoed around the clearing. “Oh, you I like!” She turned, speaking more to herself than any of them. “Is it Fate or mere chance? I can never decide.” Nodding to herself she continued, “As it happens, I may be able to help you.”

“Just like that? What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” The woman replied. “There is always a catch. Life is a catch. I suggest you _catch_ it while you can!”

A worried look crossed Bethany’s face. “Maybe we shouldn’t trust her. We don’t even know what she is.”

“I know what she is.” Aveline interjected coldly. “A Witch of the Wilds.”

“Some call me that,” the woman admitted with a shrug. “Also Flemeth, Asha’bellanar, an old hag who talks too much. Names are pretty but have little meaning. Does it matter? What I want from you is a simple delivery. There will be a Dalish clan outside of Kirkwall. Take an amulet to their Keeper, Marethari, and do with it as she asks. Do this, and any debt between us will be paid.”

“Roast a few more darkspawn and I’ll do anything you want.”

“Heh. Sadly my charity is at an end. Before you go, however, there is one other matter.” Flemeth turned her ancient eyes to Wesley just as he collapsed into Aveline’s arms.

“You stay away from him!” Aveline said, her eyes never leaving her husband as she lowered him to the ground. “Wesley? You just need to rest. We’ll re-bandage you’re wounds.”

“No, my love,” Wesley shook his head.

“What has been done to your man is within his blood already.”

Melaina took the six steps to reach Wesley’s side and stared into his eyes. They were glassy. She’d seen it before at Ostagar. “The corruption. He’s turning.”

“You lie!” The desperation in Aveline’s voice was heartbreaking.

“She’s right. I can feel it taking hold within me.”

“Better to go now as a man than to turn into one of those…things.” Melaina’s eyes turned hooded with memories.

“No. You can’t ask this of me,” Aveline nearly begged.

“You’re right.” Melaina stood, laying a hand on Aveline’s shoulder in some semblance comfort. “He’s your husband. I can’t decide his fate. But please understand that I have to protect my family. We have to go, and I won’t risk them by travelling with something that could turn on us at any moment. It’s up to you.” She walked away, letting the couple have what was probably their last moments together in private.

A few minutes later Aveline joined them, alone. No one said anything. Flemeth grouped them together before chanting something over them. A moment later the four women were deposited within sight of Gwaren. Flemeth herself was nowhere in sight, but Melaina found her pocket to be heavier by one highly adorned amulet.

“I’ve never felt anything like that.” Bethany commented as they gathered themselves. There was little to add. The Hawke women and Aveline made their way into the town and down the port. The group sold everything they could afford to do without in order to buy their passage onto a ship bound for Kirkwall. They were stuffed into the hold of a ship along with what seemed like half of Ferelden. While Aveline, Bethany, and Leandra spoke amongst themselves and the other passengers, Melaina was silent for most of the two week trip. She spoke only to give thanks for her meager portions of food, and then it was a half-heard mumble. It was only when they were told they were within sight of the City of Chains that she seemed to regain herself, and that was far more of an effort than she cared to admit.


	3. Kirkwall

The boat docked at a place called the Gallows but there was barely room for them to get off the ship for all their countrymen crowding the area.

“They aren’t letting anyone into the city?” Bethany questioned.

“If that’s true, I’m surprised they’d even let us dock,” Melaina answered.

Carefully, the four women pushed their way through the crowd to a likely looking guard much further into the building who was dealing with a group of deserters.

“We’ve been here four days!” The leader was complaining.

The guard shook his head tiredly. “I’m sorry, but there’s simply no more room in the city. We will get you all ships to go home. _Eventually._ ”

“What about for the pretty people? Surely there’s a bit of room for them?” Melaina interrupted sarcastically, well aware she was no such thing.

The guard chuckled, despite himself. “I’m afraid not. Unless you have actual business in the city, you’re stuck out here just like everyone else.”

“We have family here, doesn’t that count for anything?” Bethany asked.

“Believe me, I’ve heard that claim a thousand times. If you can actually provide a name….”

“Gamlen Amell.” Leandra replied promptly.

“Gamlen? I know that name. Look, I can try to get word to him, but I can’t-“

“What?! You’re going to let them in? They just got here! We’ve been waiting four days! That’s it!” The leader of the other group cried as he drew his weapon.

Eager to make friends, Aveline and Melaina also drew to stand with the guardsman as Leandra and Bethany pulled away from the fight. A few short minutes later there were several less Ferelden’s waiting to get inside Kirkwall.

“Maker’s Breath,” The guardsman cursed. “The fools. As I was saying, I can try to get word to him but I can’t make any promises. Until then, you’ll have to wait out here with everyone else.”

And so they waited. Meager scraps were portioned out – just enough to keep everyone alive. The four women found an unoccupied alcove and hunkered down, Aveline and Melaina taking turns with their sleeping to protect Leliana and Bethany from the thugs and bullies that roamed among the survivors. Aveline got to know Leandra and Bethany better, learning of the family’s past in Lothering and beyond, and mourning with them over the loss of Carver and Wesley. Three days they waited before the guardsman approached again, an unknown but somehow familiar face at his side.

“Gamlen!” Leandra cried, lurching from her sitting position to grapple the man in a hug.

“Leandra! Damn, girl! The years haven’t been kind to you,” he replied as he hugged her back awkwardly. His voice was gruff and nervous. “Let me just say upfront, I wasn’t expecting this. You here, your husband…dead. I figured you a Ferelden for life, you know?”

“Oh, Gamlen. The Blight…and now Carver is gone too. My little boy! Please, just take us back to the estate. Please.”

“Ah. About that. The Estate. It’s… gone. I’m afraid you’ll find the Amell name doesn’t mean what it used to in Kirkwall.”

“Gone?”

“Yes. I had to sell it to, er, pay off some debts.” He stared down and shuffled his feet, not daring to look his sister in the eye. “Look. The point is, even if I scraped everything I owned together it might have been enough to get _one_ of you in before. But now? And all of you? The price has gone up, and I can’t afford it. But I know some people who can grease the wheels. The trick is you’d have to work for them. For a year.”

“A year!?”

“Well, not you, Leandra; your children. Melaina and Bethany.”

“What about me?” Aveline asked.

“Can’t see it makes much difference,” Gamlen answered. “A year’s a year.”

“Look, I don’t mind. Anything to get them in the city,” Melaina spoke up for the first time. “But does Bethany have to be part of this?”

“I’m afraid so. I promised them the two of you, and they know one’s a mage. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” Gamlen shrugged.

Melaina looked helplessly to Bethany and Leandra. Bethany nodded imperceptibly. “I guess we’ll take it.”

“Then let me introduce you to Athenril. She’ll be your boss for the next year.”

It turned out that Athenril was an elven woman in charge of a smuggling ring too small for the local carta to bother with subduing. They were indentured, but had a home and a job – for a year.

**Author's Note:**

> All critiques, edits, questions, and comments are very, very welcome!


End file.
